


Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas Sweater

by Rabid_X



Series: 12 Gays of Christmas [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Sweaters, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 10:04:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/608621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabid_X/pseuds/Rabid_X
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part two of 12 Gays of Christmas: Christmas Carol Edition. Clint goes to surprise Phil for the holiday season and gets a surprise instead.<br/>This is one pair of a multiple fandom work. The stories are not connected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas Sweater

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PrometheusHarpe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrometheusHarpe/gifts).



> My writing partner, PrometheusHarpe, and I started doing this many Christmases ago.  
> The premise is six lovely gay couples at the Christmas season.This year I write them for her. This is un-beta'd so let me know the mistakes. Enjoy!  
> (eventually to be cross-posted on Live Journal)

Clint took a deep breath before knocking on the door. He’d made the trip out to Staten Island the night before Christmas Eve. Natasha and Steve had headed out God knew where, Bruce had slipped away to rendezvous with Betty Ross in Ohio of all places, Tony and Pepper were in Malibu with Rhodey and Thor had taken Jane and Darcy to Norway for what he called a proper winter’s tide festival. Every one of them, even Bruce, had asked Clint of he wanted to come along. He said no to them all. There was only one person he wanted to spend Christmas with and that was Phil.

They hadn’t exactly avoided each other since Phil’s return from the grave and Clint didn’t want to think about that much. Phil was alive, he was recovering and he was finally due to be cleared for duty in January. They’d both just been busy, Phil with his recovery and Clint with a handful of missions with the Avengers. Clint had seen him five days ago, flushed and sweaty from his physical therapy and he’d looked good, almost back to fighting form and with none of the gaunt paleness that he’d sported for weeks after his reappearance. 

Phil had let slip that he had a house out on the island and it hadn’t taken Clint much wheedling to get Tony and JARVIS to find out the address. Clint took it as a sign that Phil had wanted him to know where he was. Tony took it as a dodge on moving into the tower once Phil came back to work. 

“He probably thinks we’re some sort of frat house,” Tony groused.

“Aren’t we?” Clint asked and laughed at Tony’s scowl. But secretly he hoped Phil would move in too.

Now though he was nervous. The neighborhood was so normal, houses decorated with tasteful twinkling lights and white wire reindeer. There were cars spilling out of some of the driveways and on the sides of the street and a few straggling kids were running inside probably to hot chocolate by the fire. It was such a perfect scene that Clint couldn’t help but _want_. 

He finally knocked, fist rapping on the door in the middle of a huge wreath made of evergreens and red shiny Christmas balls. He bounced on his toes as he waited, glancing up and down the street, the occupational hazard of always checking his six haunting him. Then the door opened in a spill of light, warmth and the laughter of several people. 

Shit, Phil had people there. It sounded, in that split second as the door opened, like he was interrupting a good time. He was already stepping back, ready to walk – okay run – away, when Phil came into view and Clint burst out in laughter of his own. Phil just stared at him blandly, the corners of his lips quirked infinitesimally upward. 

“What is... is that a Christmas sweater, Coulson?”

Phil looked down at his chest and back up with a shrug. “It appears to be.” 

The sweater was pine green and had a line of reindeer across the middle of the chest. Clint had to admit it did wonders for Phil’s eyes, bringing the hidden flecks of green out, making them shine almost aqua. But it was a _Christmas sweater_ , on one of the deadliest men Clint knew.

“Is there a problem, Barton?” 

Clint wiped his eyes. “Um no… I…” Suddenly a tiny girl, no bigger than Cindy-Lou Hoo appeared at Phil’s leg and clung to it, looking up at Clint. She was wearing a red and white Christmas dress and candy cane striped leggings. Clint’s heart clenched tight as he looked down into eyes as blue as Phil’s and he just knew this had been a mistake.

Why the hell would Coulson want him here? There were sounds of people inside, family and lots of it by the number of voices. And here was a SHIELD specialist on the doorstep, like a beggar at the gates, wanting to stomp through their happy gathering. He didn’t even realize Coulson had family. They never talked about it, private lives being private. Of course Coulson knew about Clint’s brother and his parents but the man had brought him into SHIELD in the first place. Fuck, he should’ve gone with Tony and Pepper. At least he would be drunk in Malibu by now instead of growing colder and colder on the edge of something he shouldn’t be a part of. For all he knew this was Coulson’s daughter.

“Uncle Phil, is he coming with us?” The little girl asked, looking up at her uncle. _Uncle._

Phil looked at Clint and smiled. “Of course he is, honey. Go tell your mom to get another thermos ready, okay?”

She squealed happily and raced off, calling for her mother as she went. Phil watched her go before looking back at Clint. “My niece, Kelly. It’s her first time and she’s very excited.”

“Kelly?” Clint asked dumbly. “First time for what?” Whatever it was _Phil_ wanted him to come along. Phil wanted him to come in, judging by the hand now on his elbow, guiding him through the door and into the warm living room. 

There was a fire in the fireplace and four adults in sight. Clint could hear more adults further in the house and the laughing rowdiness of children. He could smell gingerbread and chocolate and the longing hit him hard. “Phil?”

“Clint, I want you to meet my brother Andrew,” a man who looked like a slightly younger version of Phil with lighter hair waved from the fireplace. He was wearing a sweater with a Christmas tree on it. “My mother Phyllis and before you ask, no. I am named after my grandfather.”

“Oh foo,” said a tiny, white-haired older lady wearing a sweater with a bright wreath on it. She came over to the, beaming happily. “I was named after my father and you were named after me. It’s nice to finally meet you, Clint!”

Clint was engulfed in a firm hug that smelled of roses and powder and got a little kiss on the cheek. “Um…”

“Ooh you are freezing!” Phyllis said. “Drew, get your fanny out of that chair and get Clint some hot chocolate. Drew’s my husband.”

“You could maybe let me say hello first, woman,” the older man said and hauled himself up out of an armchair. He crossed to Clint and shook his hand. “Welcome to the madhouse, son. You want a nip of something in that chocolate?”

“Uh, no sir. Just marshmallows if you have them, thanks,” Clint said, trying not to stare at the blue sweater covered in snowflakes Phil’s father was wearing.

“You got it. Andrew, you want to give me a hand? I can hear the boys getting restless back there,” Drew said.

“Yup, nice to meet you, Clint,” Andrew – Drew junior, oh dear god Clint’s mind supplied - said and followed his father out. 

Phyllis grinned conspiratorially and winked at Clint. “If you’re coming with us, I’d better get you the uniform.” And with that she headed up the stairs leaving Clint alone with Phil.

“I was going to come get you tomorrow if you didn’t get out here by then,” Phil said. “But you found it.”

Clint shook his head to clear his overwhelmed brain. “Yeah, I did. What the hell? Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I have a very festive family. They all want to meet you,” Phil said with a shrug. “But I knew you wouldn’t come if I invited you. I’m just glad I didn’t have to order you.”

Clint stared, confused again. “They want to meet me? You’ve told them about me. Doesn’t that break a regulation or a Coulson Rule?”

Phil’s cheeks colored just a bit and Clint was sure he was going mad. He wanted to do so many things to Phil that were very much not family friendly just to see that again. Phil had told his family about him. He’d told them enough of something that his _parents_ for fuck’s sake left the room like they were leaving a new bride and groom alone.

Oh. _Oh…_

"I never said your name, they, um, know most of what I do is classified. But my mom’s always been very sharp,” Phil shrugged again and looked at Clint with hope in his eyes. 

Clint took a deep breath and relaxed. The Coulsons knew about him and they were welcoming him in. Phil was welcoming him in. He smiled and shrugged off his coat. Phil’s look of relief made his smile broader and he shook his head with a laugh. “So where are we going?” 

"Caroling,” Phil said and took his coat. “We do this every year." 

"Is that why you couldn’t stop singing when we were in Chechnya three years ago?” Clint asked and crowded into Phil’s space. 

Phil nodded and Clint stopped him from saying anything with a kiss. Phil gasped softly and Clint tried very hard not to die right there. 

Two hours later, the Coulson clan and Clint hit the neighborhood, caroling from house to house. Clint’s clear tenor twined in perfectly with the rest of the voices and if anyone thought his bright red snowman sweater looked out of place with his cargo pants and combat boots, no one said a thing. 


End file.
